


Price of Freedom

by tyomawrites



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Dubious Consent, Extremely Dubious Consent, First Time, I just wanted to write something that was Jarl Borg/Readery, Implied/Referenced Cheating, M/M, Torvi is mentioned though not by named
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-20
Updated: 2019-03-20
Packaged: 2019-11-26 08:35:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18178343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tyomawrites/pseuds/tyomawrites
Summary: “You have a fire in you, I’ll give you that.” He commented, touching your face again with a lift of his hand from your knee. “What would you do for your freedom?” He asked firmly.“Freedom?” You tilted your head barely to the side.“Hmm, what would you do if I offered you your freedom, what then?” You didn’t understand. Why would he offer you your freedom? Why would he offer you anything?





	Price of Freedom

Jarl Borg stared down at you. confused, uncertain, like he wasn’t expecting you to be there. You’d met him a while ago, at the feast, with your father but you assumed that he wasn’t expecting you to be here, in Kattegat left behind to look after your siblings while your father went to Wessex. 

“What was your name?” Your step mother and brothers had gotten away, along with your uncle and Siggy which was great for them, it wasn’t so great for you when you’d stayed behind to fight instead of going with your uncle. It was rather foolish of you.

You stayed silent as Jarl Borg circled you, a hand coming to touch the side of your face like he was examining you. 

“If you remind me what your name was, and I have half a mind not to kill you where you stand.” 

“If you think I’d help you at all, even by giving you my name.” You spat, crossing your arms over your chest, finally moving for the first time since Jarl Borg’s men had brought you to him.

“You are fiery, like your father.” Jarl Borg commented, his hand leaving the side of your face. “Do you have his vanity as well?” You glanced up at him smugly, narrowing your eyes at him. 

“He will kill you.” You lifted your gaze to look at the men around you.

Jarl Borg struck out his hand across your cheek, tipping you over and onto the wooden floors of the great hall. 

“Surely he’d not risk losing a son?” You swallowed the dry lump in your throat, staring towards him. “Or perhaps he does not care for you, with your younger brothers safety at stake.” It was at that you trembled, the shake starting from your fingers up through to your shoulders. 

“Is that what you are so afraid of?” Jarl Borg almost crooned at you, still circling and watching your movements. “Your father would not come back for you, that he’d leave you here because he does not love you..” He grinned down at you, until the trembling had reached your bottom lip. 

“Stop.” You shook, dropping your eyes from his. You could barely handle the thought of it. Your father and the possibility that you’d never be saved.

“Refresh my memory and tell me your name.“ Jarl Borg stopped in front of you. 

“Helgi.” You said softly, averting your gaze. “My name is Helgi.” 

“Helgi. Second son of Ragnar Lothbrok.” Jarl Borg touched your hairline briefly before gesturing to one of the guards. They picked you up by your biceps, dragging you out of the great hall to where Jarl Borg was keeping you. It was late, you noticed as you glanced up towards the sky, the stars glittered above you, softening the emotions in your heart, the nausea, anxiety and fear from what Jarl Borg had said. They threw you inside the room, leaving you on the cold wooden floor. You shivered and tucked yourself away into a corner of the room, clutching around your knees even with your bound wrists. 

It had been hours before the door to his prison creaked open, a streak of light streamed in across his face, causing you to startle.

“Calm yourself.” Jarl Borg’s voice came across the room as he slipped inside, watching your every move.

“What do you want?” Your voice came out shakier than you intended it too. You cowered back into the corner when Jarl Borg stepped closer to you. He stared down at you, before crouching down and settling his hands onto your knees. 

“You are unlike your father. You shake, though you are defiant.” You lifted your eyes to meet him, confused. “You have no certainty of whether you are going to live or die. You are not vain, unlike your father.” He touched your cheek with a certainty, challenging your gaze.

You lurched forward, to knock him over. Jarl Borg barely flinched, pushing you back down into the corner. 

“You have a fire in you, I’ll give you that.” He commented, touching your face again with a lift of his hand from your knee. “What would you do for your freedom?” He asked firmly.

“Freedom?” You tilted your head barely to the side. 

“Hmm, what would you do if I offered you your freedom, what then?” You didn’t understand. Why would he offer you your freedom? Why would he offer you anything.

“Why?” You couldn’t fathom the reason.

“I would like to spend time with you, my wife is with child and rarely so does she welcome discomfort in her bed. Nor would I seek to cause her any.” The way he ran a hand across the outside of your thigh made you shiver. “I would seek my pleasures… elsewhere.” 

“You can’t possibly mean.” You pulled back, as far as you could against the wall. “You can’t.” 

“Would you deny a chance of your freedom for being afraid?” You shook your head. Jarl Borg stood and jerked his head over towards the bed that was in the corner of the room. “Then move.” He ordered bluntly. You scrambled to move, getting up from the floor with your hands on the wall, using it to pull you to your feet. 

Jarl Borg hovered over you as you sat gingerly on the mattress staring up at him. “Have you done this before?” He asked as he ran a hand over your hair. 

“No.” You admitted softly. Jarl Borg gestured for you to lay onto your stomach, as he began to strip out of his clothes. Your thighs were tense, fingers still shaking where you propped them under your chest to hold you up. You flinched as Jarl Borg touched your back, running his hand down the line of your back before he touched gingerly on your thighs.

“How old are you?” He asked. His hands worked quickly across your back, a knife slide between your skin and your tunic, slicing your clothes off your skin. With your back exposed, you felt a hundred times more vulnerable.

“Eighteen.” You took a breath as you felt the blade trace down your spine. The blade paused, pricking at your skin before it continued to trace down to your breeches. Jarl Borg cut you out of your clothes, baring your skin to him. The blade was replaced with a finger, slick with oil as it followed the line of your back, to the curve of your arse and then the juncture of your thighs.

“Do you promise me my freedom?” You gasped when he touched the cleft of your arse with slick fingers, before he slowly and painstakingly began to prepare you.

Jarl Borg only hummed in response, pressing a hand firmly on your thigh. He got onto the bed shuffling in between your thighs, spreading your legs. He settled there, touching you with firm and certain hands. He nudged your legs further apart, lifting them by your thighs and settled them over his own for better access.

He worked two fingers into you, chuckling lowly when a gasp escaped your lips. “You were telling the truth.” He mused against you, pressing his fingers further into you and twisting them, until he pressed against a bundle of nerves inside you that had you yelping.

You were hard in the confines of your ruined breeches Your cock hovered over the mattress and the fabric of your clothes that still lingered, red and wanting. Jarl Borg pressed further into you, with two fingers and then three, thrusting them at a steady pace You tried your best not to let noises and moans escape your throat, but they were drawn out by his touch.

Jarl Borg didn’t seem to mind that you were silent or trying to keep your noises to yourself. He leaned forward between your thighs. You breath hitched as he pressed the head of his cock against you, and then he thrust, with a slick pop, and he pushed inside you.

It burned, sent shocks down your spine and had you arching off the bed with your fists clenched tightly. The fact that you arched had pushed you further back onto his cock, sliding it deeper into you. You shook as he began to move slowly, a steady pace immediately coming to him.

It was entirely for his own pleasure, rolling his hips with his hands on your things, his short nails dug into your hips and scratched. He pushed you forward and reached around you, holding the knife he held to your throat. You whimpered against better judgement, bucking your hips as he teased the knife across your skin.

He groaned, although rather softly, smirking at you when you glanced over your shoulder to look at him. His expression was closed off, although his eyes were hooded and they were trained on where he pushed into you. You shifted back as he continued to thrust, manhandling you by your hips and thighs.

“Hmm you’re good at this.” He mused. He pressed down on your lower back, before running a hand along the curve. It was a firm gesture, and then he pressed the flat edge of the blade across your throat and pressed.

It sunk against your skin, sharp edges catching and rubbing your skin raw. Beads of blood began to form. They trickled down your skin and across the blade. Jarl Borg then lifted the blade from your throat and went back to thrusting instead, tracing it down your back, pricking along the bumps of your spine.

You gasped as the knife lingered in the dimples of your back, pricking there with it’s sharp point, drawing more blood. You arched your back from the sensation, drawing a line blood, unintended. The knife clattered onto the floor, abandoned by Jarl Borg as he gripped tightly onto your hips with both hands and thrust in earnest. 

He grunted, mostly to himself, paying no mind to how you felt. You were wracked however, confusion and pleasure both coursed through your veins and along your nerves. You rut against the remains of your breeches, letting Jarl Borg move you to his liking. As Jarl Borg took his pleasure from you, you chased your own with short gasped noises of pleasure.

Finally you caught your release while he thrust into you. You ducked your face into the mattress, biting into your bottom lip to stifle a moan as you spilled your release. Jarl Borg chased his own, grunting sharply as he finally stilled his hips after half a dozen more thrusts. 

It hurt, when he pulled out from you, leaving his release to trail down your thighs. He pulled away from the bed, stepping back onto his own clothes with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I will bring you fresh clothes in the morning.” He murmured softly, before he turned away. You turned over, wincing from the ache in your thighs and the base of your spine.

You watched as he opened the door and glanced back at you.

“What about my freedom?” He paused before smiling to himself. 

“What about it.” Your entire body tensed at that, sitting up too fast for your head to be used to it. You fell back, dizzied, breathless, angry as Jarl Borg closed the door behind him. What a fool you were.

 

* * *

 

 

“Where’s my brother?” It was the first thing Bjorn had said after they’d hugged each other and walked back up to the shithole of a house they were staying in. Ragnar’s face dropped, eyes averting to the dirt as Lagertha now stood with interest. “Where is Helgi?” 

“Rollo said he stayed back to protect the others. He didn’t escape.” At his words, Lagertha’s face grew angry, her eyes narrowed.

“So you left him there? You left our son there?” She spoke up.

“I did not know he was there!” Ragnar exclaimed, crossing his arms over his chest before he sat down. “I wanted to go and get him, but Rollo explained that we didn’t have enough men.”

“And so you assumed he’d be fine if you left him behind?” Lagertha frowned pointedly. “I’m going to have some words with Rollo.” She turned to go look for him, only to find him standing behind her.

“I didn’t know he stayed behind Lagertha.” 

There was not much they could have done now, unless they could come up with a plan.

 

* * *

 

“Where is he?” Jarl Borg circled you, staring down at you as you knelt bound around your ankles and wrists in the grass. “Where would your father be hiding?” You were only there for a moment, before they’d hauled you up over a horse and brought you with them. You recognized Olrik, just barely as Jarl Borg pushed his dead body over. Olrik was your friend.

Jarl Borg yanked you off the horse, pushing you to the ground as you stumbled. The two parallel lines along your throat were stark on your skin, angry red lines from the knife that Jarl Borg had held to your throat. Jarl Borg glared down at you, before gesturing with his hand and he had you kept aside, on your knees, unable to past the guards that surrounded you.

“Keep the shield wall and the boy safe.” Someone hauled you up to your feet, and suddenly you could see into the fray of the battle, into the mess that had your father, mother and brother all screaming and fighting. Your father met your eyes across the battlefield. He paused, for only a moment before spinning around to slash at another man with his axe.

“Helgi!” You heard him yell. You struggled against your bindings as they slung you onto a horse, making ready for their retreat. You growled, jerking out of the way and off of the horse, scrambling to your feet, using your fists to push yourself up. 

“Father!” You had yelled back, fingers scrambling to grip around the handle of a dropped axe. Your brother shouldered his way through the masses as Jarl Borg’s men left you there, retreating to save their own skins. Bjorn grabbed onto your smaller frame first, tugging you close to him as both your parents shouldered their way through the few remaining men of Jarl Borg.

Bjorn examined your face carefully. His eyes dropped to your neck and his face softened. “Helgi are you alright?” Your mother asked from your right, from behind Bjorn. You hummed in agreement, well aware there was an ache in your hips as you turned to face your father.

He embraced you tightly, not noticing the way you winced. “My son.” He breathed into your ear before he cupped the back of your head and held you in a tight hug. “I’m sorry.” He whispered, only to you. Even while your body ached, and the angry lines across your throat were going to take time to heal, you figure, as you hugged your father tighter, that you would be just fine, afterall, all you did was pay your price for freedom.


End file.
